Page 9 of Redeem

Dana had squatted next to her wood, but she looked up at me, shading her face with her hands. I couldn’t see her expression, but I thought I heard amusement in her voice.

“Yes?” I said.

She stood, brushed her hands against thighs that were lovingly caressed by her jeans, and then walked toward me, her eyes never leaving my face. She stopped in front of me, and as she looked from me to the table saw, I glimpsed a smile beginning to creep across her face.

“You have no idea how to use that, do you?” she asked.

I again looked at the table saw and then back to her, feeling far more guilty than the situation called for and even more anxious about how she would react. I couldn’t lose this chance to be close to her, knew I would likely not have many others. That she’d uncovered my lack of skills was probably my hint that I should do as I’d planned and tell her the truth.

I looked at her, knew this was a chance to speak and end this before it went further. “No,” I finally said, almost unable to push the word out for fear of what admitting the truth would cost me, unable to speak though I knew how desperately I needed to.

After I spoke I waited, wondering how she would react. But as I watched, the faint smile grew ever wider until it completely covered her face.

“You were going to try to figure it out on the fly, huh?” she asked.

When I saw the amusement on her face, an expression that made her even more beautiful, I let myself smile—and forget everything else.

“Yes, I was,” I said.

She laughed, the sound light, amused. Then she shook her head. “Silly. The nearest hospital is twenty miles away. Far too long of a drive for them to reattach your fingers,” she said.

I laughed deeper. “I’m certain I could have figured it out,” I replied.

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding, laughing yet again. “Why didn’t you just say something?”

I shrugged. “You might have found someone else for the job.”

My words had come out more serious, heavy, than I’d intended, and her smile dropped a little. It was still there, but some of the brilliance was gone. She shook her head. “You can use a handsaw, right?” she asked, avoiding my admission.

I nodded.

“Then that’s fine. If you just cut the boards in half, I can handle the rest,” she said.

I nodded, but she still looked at me, regarding me for a moment.

“You been doing this long?” she asked, her eyes not giving anything away, though I had come to recognize when her curiosity had been sparked.

“What?” I said, somewhat wary that she was asking about my past, even more impressed, flattered, that she was interested.

“Laboring,” she said.

I shook my head. “Little over a year.”

“No background in construction, though?” she said.

It was my turn to sober, though I did my best to keep my expression neutral. “No. But I can lift heavy things. That’s usually what people want.”

I didn’t say anything else though, even as Dana looked at me, her expression telling me she was waiting. There was nothing more I could tell her, at least not yet, and this discussion of the past was not one I wanted to open, not like this. I tried not to think about it, and answering her questions now would lead to others.

After a moment, Dana nodded, the spark of connection we had found now gone.

“I’ll get the other handsaw,” she said.

Then she disappeared around the edge of the house.

Dana

A few hours after we’d returned to my house, we had fallen into a companionable silence.

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